Willhi and my helpful, Christian neighbor (HCN) checked on my chickens through the week.  Apparently, the chickens drank a lot of water and ate very little food.  When it’s hot like it was this week, it’s normal that they would drink a lot.  It’s also not surprising that they didn’t eat a lot of food, knowing their attitude toward the pellets.

When I went to the coop, all the chickens came running to see me.  Dolly and Faith both made their way onto my lap.  I grabbed up a handful of chicken food for them.   Normally, with the mash, they would nearly tear my hand apart eating up all the food I offered them.  But the blank stare I received in response to my handful of pellets was comical!

I felt a little guilty now that my chicks were looking for a treat and all I had was pellets.  It was like telling the kids I’d bring home a treat for them only to hand them broccoli.  They will eat broccoli but it’s not a treat.

So I went to my kitchen to put together a platter for the chickens.  I found some leftover mashed potatoes, I added some shredded carrots and crumbled corn flakes over the top.

The chicks weren’t sure what to think about the platter when I put it in the run.  But it didn’t take long for the to taste and see that it was good!  

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I was able to guide one of them back into the coop immediately but the other chicken got by me.

I turned to grab her but she jumped and squawked and I ended up with just tail feathers!  I jumped again and she fluttered and again I only grabbed her tail.  I held fast while trying to get a better hold of the squawking, flapping chicken!  I finally managed to toss her back into the coop but not unscathed. 

I have a scratch on my finger and wrist that bled from chicken feet and I scraped my shin on who-knows-what.

The coop was in an uproar!  I quickly checked the food and water and opened the hatch.  Then I turned my back and walked away to go lick my wounds.

P.S. I also had a wonderful time at the ladies’ ice cream social last night.  Rose’s flower garden was a beautiful setting.  By the way, does anyone bring hostess gifts anymore?  I always try to bring something for the hostess to thank her for all her hard work, but I was the only one out of 12 women.  Am I old fashioned or just a goody-goody?

Weight Loss – do the diets really work?

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There was nothing that could be done.  And nothing that I can do.  How do I keep my chickens from being gluttons and trying to swallow slugs that are too big for them?  Willhi assured me that I can’t.  I’m concerned.

We are overrun with slugs.  We have had so much rain and there is no end in sight.  Even at the moments when it’s not raining, it is cloudy and foggy.  There is no sun or heat to drive the slugs back into the earth.  You can’t take one step without squishing two or three slugs.

The chickens knew that Leann was missing last night.  I sat in the coop for a long time with them.  Dolly flew into my lap immediately and cuddled into my arm.  She hasn’t done that in a while.  Patsy walked around and around the coop, calling and calling.  Faith kept eyeing me and finally flew into my lap with Dolly.  Faith is so timid that she never lets me even pick her up.  She still wouldn’t let me pat her, but she wanted to be in my lap.

Maybe they missed Leann.  Maybe they were comforting me.  Maybe I’ll never know.  But I miss Leann and I was comforted.

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There was no warning.  There was no sign of illness.  This morning I went out to open the hatch into the run as I do every morning.  Everyone ran outside while I checked their water and food.  I picked up Reba because she’s always at my feet and loves to be patted and cuddled.  Then a commotion out in the run caught my eye.  Leann had fallen down and was stretching out her neck with her beak open wide.  It almost looked like she was choking.  Then she convulsed and flipped over on her back.  She was gone just like that.  I took her out of the pen right away so the other chickens wouldn’t molest her.

The kids are mildly sad.  They understand death and want to bury Leann in the backyard.  I think I’m having a harder time with it because I take care of the chickens.  Did I do something wrong?  Could I have prevented this?  Is there a threat to the other chickens?

I’ve already emptied the coop of old shavings and put down fresh, clean shavings.  I cleaned the waterer and re-filled it.  I went into the run and found some things that the chickens had unearthed that could be harmful if it was ingested.  I removed them and will be checking frequently.

Death leaves a dark, morose feeling that lingers in the atmosphere like the rain clouds that we’ve had to deal with for two weeks now.  The seven day forecast is more rain.  I knew that fatalities were a real possibility when I got my chicks.  I’ll have to accept it and move on.  It would just be easier if I had some sunshine.

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When we go to the coop, Dapper hates to be left out.  At first I wasn’t sure how he’d react to eight chicks running helter-skelter around him but I couldn’t bear his whining for long.

I opened the door to let Dapper in.  Immediately he ran to my side, tail wagging, and sat down.  I wondered how long it would take for the chicks to notice him and what Dapper would do about it.  It wasn’t long.

At times a chick would get close to the dog.  Dapper would stretch out his neck to nose the chicken.  Often the chick would turn to face him, nose to beak.  Then she’d turn and run off.

After a little while, Dapper got brave and would take a step or two to sniff at a chick.  That’s when the trouble started.

A chickens number one preoccupation is finding food.  She spends most of her time eating, scratching, pecking and chasing bugs.  So when Dapper stood up, his floppy, long-haired ears just looked like so many worms that the chicks couldn’t resist.  They flocked him, pulling strands of hair on his ears.  This surprised him and then POW!  He was pecked right on the nose!

After that, Dapper was very careful to keep his face hidden behind someone’s legs.  Soon, he gave up and asked to leave the coop.

I guess Dapper has a healthy understanding of what being “hen-pecked” means now.

(The picture shows Dapper’s surprised expression with his ears standing straight up after being pecked by the Leghorn.)

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Dolly has also taken a keen liking to Young Master.  She was the first to eat out of his hand.  She hops up on the edge of the box to be close to him when he stops by the brooder. 

But today beat all!

I have my computer set up in the kitchen and Young Master, being a product of GH, is a computer geek.  He enjoys playing computer games whenever he gets the chance.  As he was playing his game this afternoon, Dolly fluttered up onto the edge of the box to be close to him.  Then she took courage and flew onto his shoulder!  It shocked Young Master, who called for me to come rescue him from his attack chicken.  Instead, I grabbed the camera!

After taking several photos of Young Master with is chicken/parrot, I placed Dolly back in the brooder.  She promptly jumped up and flew to his shoulder again.  I, again, placed her back in the brooder.  Then I got my camera ready and was able to catch her in flight the next time!

It was shocking the first time, funny the second, and even funny the third and fourth.  Now it’s just annoying.  Dolly will fly onto anyone who’s sitting at the computer now.  She’s flown onto my shoulder three times now since I’ve started this post.  She’s asleep in my lap now.  If it wasn’t for the chicken droppings, I’m sure she’d sleep in my bed!

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Right now the only way that we can tell the chicks apart is by markings and how developed they are.  Some have longer tail feathers than others and some have stripes or spots that will disappear when all of their feathers have come in.  Regardless, the kids were bugging me to name them, so here they are…

Dolly – She is the largest and most developed of the White Leghorns.  She also seems to be the most dominant.

Patsy – She is the second largest White Leghorn and has slightly shorter tail feathers than Dolly.

LeAnn – She is next in line.  Nothing really note-worthy to mention.

Faith – She is the smallest of the Leghorns and of all the chickens.

The Rhode Island Reds are distinguished more by their markings.

Wynona – She has four black stripes going down her back and also has a trade mark chirp-chirp when you pick her up.

Shania – She has white-ish tips on her wings.

Reba – She is very uniformly red and black striped on her feathers.

Martina – She is the smallest of the RI Reds and doesn’t have any black markings on her head.

So, they are all named.  Soon the white ones will all look the same and the red ones’ feathers will change color.  I think I’m going to have to invest in some leg bands.

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The chickens like the dust.  I’ve seen Willhi’s chickens take dust baths.  Yesterday one of the RI Reds scratched out a hole in the shavings and then started kicking and fluffing herself.  She’d bury her head under the shavings and give a contented twitter.  The other chicks came over and walked over her and pecked at the shavings on her back but she seemed in such ecstasy that she didn’t even move.I’m sure sure that chick really enjoyed her dust bath.  All of the chicks are looking very uncomfortable.  They’ve got feathers sticking out everywhere.  They kind of look like a cross between a powder puff and a pin cushion!

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I’d like to know how she got out.  When I got home from work, GH was looking behind the furniture for the escapee.  We could hear peeping coming from behind the bookcase.  GH spotted the Leghorn behind a basket of magazines.  I returned her to the brooder.  I’m sure she had a story to tell the other girls about the great big world beyond the walls!

I’m not sure if I should be worried about it happening again soon or if it was some chance happening.

I wish I’d seen Dapper’s reaction to the run-away chick!  I’m glad he’s not a great hunter.

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